


Somewhere This Perfect

by budgie



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Ficlet, Fluff, blue baby, post-ME3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/budgie/pseuds/budgie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the corner is the first Christmas tree Shepard’s ever set up. It’s lopsided and none of the decorations seem to match like they did in the catalogues, but she loves it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere This Perfect

Shepard never really had a proper home before this. She grew up on the streets and then, once she signed up, she had lived on ships. The Normandy had been the closest thing to a home, but that was not her own. Now, in the stillness of the morning while the rest of the world sleeps, she lies between the bed sheets next to her bondmate. Their daughter is asleep in a cot on the other side of the room.

If she had ever imagined what her life would be like when she had grown up, she would never have thought she would end up somewhere this perfect.

When she imagined the rest of her life going into the Omega 4 relay, she saw gunfire and not a lot of time.

When she went through the Conduit, she saw nothing.

Now, in the morning light outside her window, she can see new snowflakes falling. Inside it is not cold, but Shepard moves closer to Liara. Only a few weeks have passed since she gave birth, and Shepard does miss the strange round firmness that Liara’s belly became. Feeling their baby kick was something that frightened her but it made her the happiest she’d ever felt before.

She never thought she would be a father.

As she laughs at the thought, Liara stirs and blinks sleepily as she smiles.

‘Merry Christmas,’ Shepard says.

‘Morning.’

Shepard kisses her forehead. As she leans back, Liara reaches up a hand and pulls Shepard towards her, planting a kiss on her lips. 

‘That’s better,’ Liara says, grinning.

Liara rarely sleeps in, being the Shadow Broker means odd hours, but for Christmas she makes an exception. Shepard knows neither of them have ever really celebrated the day before, and maybe they’re going to get it wrong, but there’s a first for everything.

As they get out of bed, Shepard pulls on a gaudy Christmas-themed t-shirt she found a few days ago as Liara picks up their daughter.

Every night without fail, Shepard still wakes up in the middle of the night to check on her. Her life has had so much violence, she’s scared that somehow her baby will be effected. She has dreams, sometimes, but whenever she gets up, Shepard finds the baby sleeping peacefully. When she can’t sleep, Shepard will just watch her. She could do it for hours. 

She has caused the deaths of so many it barely seems fair that she has a child, a perfect, unbroken child.

Their daughter’s skin is almost the same shade as Liara’s, but sometimes in the right light there’s a hint of the green of Shepard’s eyes.

The lounge room is messy. A lifetime of military cleanliness disappeared not a week after they moved in. In the corner is the first Christmas tree Shepard’s ever set up. It’s lopsided and none of the decorations seem to match like they did in the catalogues, but she loves it.

She makes the coffees and Liara sits on the couch next to a pile of presents. Shepard sits on the floor in front of her and picks up the first present.

‘Maybe we should open it,’ Shepard says. ‘Her fingers are too small.’

Liara giggles. 

Shepard holds up the package to her daughter and the asari places a tiny hand on the brightly-wrapped box.

Once everything is unwrapped, Shepard sits beside Liara and holds their daughter. She’s asleep now, and as Shepard watches her chest rise up and down in the new jumpsuit Liara bought, she smiles.

Liara sips the coffee Shepard made, now cold. ‘She’s perfect, isn’t she?’

‘You say that every day,’ Shepard says, smiling. And yeah, she is.’

The day is just the three of them, eating and singing and being silent. The tree fell down and the roast was burnt to a blackened stump, but there was laughter and kisses and comfort. She doesn’t know if this is the way Christmas should be, but as she lies awake in the bed listening to Liara and the baby just breathing, she is happy.


End file.
